Chapter 136
Chapter 136
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 136
Chapter Title: Administrative Grind and Sudden Assault
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Trunble set down the export confirmation form and pressed his fingers firmly between his eyes. Staring at paperwork in this stuffy room all day was sheer torture.
It had been nearly a month since he last left the Administration Bureau. Dust was probably piling up white on his bed at home by now. The doorframe that needed fixing had likely gapped even wider.
“How’s it going?”
“Same as yesterday.”
He took a sip of the coffee his colleague had handed him and turned back to the documents. It had been three days since the order came down to recheck all goods brought into the Holy City, and he’d gone through about half.
“How about your side?”
“Pretty much the same as here. Checking everything one by one.”
“One terror attack, and we’re the ones dropping like flies.”
“Five hundred dead, they say. Can’t blame the higher-ups for cracking the whip.”
“Dizzying number. Speaking of which, when’s the joint funeral?”
“Next week. And Bien finally collapsed today. They carted him out a bit ago.”
“With his son gone first, how many parents could hold out?”
“He kept going on faith that the boy might pull through, even unconscious. But now his daughter’s gone for good, so Bien broke.”
Even the iron ledger of Administration 2nd Bureau was powerless before the grief of losing a child. It was heartbreaking.
“Pushing off the funeral for work.”
“It’s not just funerals. Everything’s delayed or canceled.”
The terror had struck in March, and now it was April. Normally, as winter retreated and spring arrived, the Holy City would teem with people and festivals, but not this year.
Word was even the St. Andre Festival, starting the second week of June, had been scrapped.
Countless imperial figures had poured effort into that two-week event. What a shame.
Trunble gazed into his cup. He’d only taken a few sips, but the coffee was already gone.
“I’m forgetting where I even live.”
“Everyone is.”
“How’s your wife holding up? Okay?”
“She’s much more stable. Still has nightmares of monsters chasing her at night, but at least she’s sleeping some.”
“Cruel to say, but better than the alternative.”
“You’re right. Nightmares are a luxury of the living.”
The unprecedented terror had claimed victims by the thousands. If that massive explosion in District 8 had hit a residential area, it would’ve been tens of thousands.
A month later, the Holy City was still on edge.
Right after the attack, all goods movement in the city halted. Not even nobles with citizen IDs could leave.
Searches were thorough, permits granted only for dire necessities.
Freedom birthing dignity—that was the Holy City’s motto, symbol of the Empire. The terror had stolen both.
“Heard the highest elder of the Lepdes entered the city yesterday.”
“With times like these, even the Council elders have to cooperate. Flaunt your status now, and heads really roll.”
“Ironically, the terror’s stabilizing internal affairs.”
“Someone said the Emperor and Council staged it. To rally unity and prep for a second Fifteen Years’ War.”
“Conspiracy a kid on the block could dream up. If they needed an excuse, they’d blow up somewhere else, not the Holy City—the Empire’s symbol and seat of authority.”
“That’s the rumor.”
His colleague lowered his voice.
“But who do you think pulled it off?”
“My bet’s on Azantans and the First-Class Nobles on the brink of ruin.”
“Retaliation against the Emperor who sparked the Tulip War?”
“More a warning. Striking the imperial family’s front yard to jab at him.”
Trunble crossed his arms.
“Look close. Nearly five hundred dead, all commoners.”
“Yeah. No nobles among the casualties. But isn’t that obvious? Noble districts are tightly controlled.”
“That’s the hunch. Terrorism needs purpose. But check: only citizens died. The blast could’ve wrecked the palace and key facilities, yet it went off in deserted District 8. No noble estates, no point in massacring civilians, right?”
“True.”
Trunble pictured District 8’s landscape. Gray structures jutting from open fields. A no-entry zone with no guards to enforce it—a unique spot.
“Any group pulling off that mana explosion wouldn’t scout District 8 first? Waste firepower blowing an iron fortress?”
“Everyone’s puzzled why District 8.”
“It was for show. A warning, like I said. Why else squander that power there?”
“Makes sense. Citizens dead, major Holy City sites untouched.”
His colleague pondered, then smirked faintly.
“But that’s too blatant.”
“I don’t buy it fully either. Just one possibility.”
“Either way, we’re the ones hurting.”
“Tell me about it.”
As Trunble reached for more documents.
“Rift between the imperial family and First-Class Nobles. Plausible read.”
A voice came from behind. No footsteps—Trunble jolted and spun. His colleague twisted too, caught off guard.
“B-Bureau Chief.”
“I get it, I do. Stuck sniffing old paper all night, wild thoughts creep in.”
“Sorry. Idle talk.”
“Intriguing stuff—I listened. Plausible. But like you said, too overt. First-Class Nobles don’t operate that way. They’d pitch camp openly before the palace.”
Bureau Chief Aleng extended a hand. The colleague hurriedly poured coffee into the empty cup.
“Good coffee. Now, Trunble, hand over those documents you’re checking.”
“The export confirmations?”
“Yes. Can’t send you home without helping out.”
“We’ll handle it, Chief.”
“Before I embarrass myself. Last September’s batch next, right?”
How’d he know? Trunble respectfully offered the stack, inwardly marveling at the chief.
His chattering colleague had slyly slipped back to his seat. They scrutinized papers, tense for a while.
The head of Administration 2nd Bureau pored over them in glasses beside him. Stomach knotted, palms sweated, dry swallows nonstop.
Numbers tangled in his head—barely seeing straight—when the chief spoke.
“Asked a contact to fix your house.”
“Pardon?”
“Doorframe’s done. Don’t worry.”
The chief eyed the colleague.
“Sent a dedicated counselor to your wife. She’s expert—should help.”
Bureau Chief Aleng set down the documents. He’d finished in that short time.
“I know you two are suffering. But what can we do? Our ease deepens citizens’ hardship. Hang in there a bit longer.”
Trunble stood to see him off at the door.
“I’ll visit Bien when time allows. Not frontline prime, but I can help.”
“Rest instead, Chief. You collapsing would be disaster.”
“Still spry.”
Bureau Chief Aleng stroked his fine mustache with a smile. After he left, Trunble exhaled softly.
“No room for complaints now.”
“Yeah. When does the chief even sleep?”
“Beats me. Inexplicable.”
“You’d think from on high he’d lose touch, but no. Nicknamed Iron Man in his active days?”
“Without him, Administration 2nd Bureau grinds to a halt.”
Trunble stretched hard. No time for chatter. The bureau head was at the front lines. Couldn’t drag feet, let alone hinder.
“Great boss.”
“Workload’s killer.”
“Better than idle. Look at Administration 1st Bureau—turned into a politics den.”
“Mainland nobles dominate. Born different from our 2nd Bureau.”
Trunble recalled the chief’s words at the full staff meeting.
“Administration for the citizens. Sold me on that.”
The upstart-noble-led Administration 2nd Bureau always prioritized citizens. When class lines blurred someday, it’d start here with Aleng.
Dangerous thoughts unspoken, but everyone in 2nd Bureau shared the dream.
“Funny—chief’s scarier than the whip-crackers above.”
“Whip’s preferable.”
Trunble exchanged glances with his colleague, then returned to his seat. Chief-vetted files went into storage. No need for double-check.
He didn’t err.
* * *
“Four days, we’ll arrive.”
Allode snapped the reins and said. His companion beside him murmured agreement.
“Hit the Holy City, I’m sleeping rank be damned.”
“Same. Tell Deong to handle reports. Rear guard arrives around then too.”
Allode nodded, glancing back. Through the small window, he checked the mages.
Scrolls on the mages and runes on the walls functioned fine.
“What’re you checking?”
“That’s my job.”
This transport was top secret, handled delicately even within the Special Inspectorate.
Stress had knotted his gut leaving Sirder’s estate, but now? Boredom set in after a month-plus uneventful.
“That spot looks good.”
Another comrade rode up. Flat ground, broad-leafed trees nearby.
They settled, lit a fire with firewood. Nights still bit despite winter’s retreat.
“No welcome team?”
“We handle this solo.”
“Holy City must be festival central now. Bustling, food stalls galore.”
“Handsome guys too. Even enemies welcome if hot.”
“No need to look far—me?”
“You’re out.”
“Fair. You’re no beauty either.”
Mid-lame jokes and laughs, hoofbeats rang.
They went alert. Deong would’ve scouted, but he wasn’t here.
Weapons at hand, they waited. No need for twitchiness. Nearing Holy City, riders were common.
“Armor?”
Armored knights at this hour. Allode eyed his comrades.
If trouble, reveal status. Special Inspectorate would smooth it.
“Wait.”
Before his comrade spoke, they all grabbed weapons and leaped up.
The mounted knights charged them.
(To be continued in the next installment)